


lift me higher, let me look at the sun

by UnrememberedSkies



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison is going through some stuff, Angst, Custody Arrangements, Drinking to Cope, Drug Withdrawal, Dubious Morality, Family Issues, Gen, Handling problems the Hargreeves way, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Rumors, Sibling Bonding, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 03:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20351569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrememberedSkies/pseuds/UnrememberedSkies
Summary: Allison's life is falling apart and she's desperately seeking to regain some of the control she has lost. When Klaus calls her asking her to post bail, Allison sees an opportunity to do some good and get her brother sober. Unfortunately, trying to make things better and accidentally making them a whole lot worse is a Hargreeves family trait.





	lift me higher, let me look at the sun

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in 12 years! Please accept my humble offerings on these gorgeous dysfunctional siblings. You can find me on [Tumblr](https://unrememberedskies.tumblr.com/). Title from Mikky Ekko's 'Who are you, really'

There were reporters waiting outside the main entrance, and Allison could hear the chatter of their voices rise in excitement as Patrick emerged from the court. He was no doubt giving some smug soundbite that would be repeated in every trashy tabloid, every gossip column, at every LA soirée for the next six months. She stood in the corridor of the court, her shaking hands fiddling with the buckle of her bag, desperate to draw out her shameful pack of cigarettes and light one up.

“Allison?” The soft fingers of her PA, Hillary, pressed on her wrist, drawing her back to reality. 

Allison smiled, the muscles straining. “Could you please find out if there is a back entrance, and get them to bring the car round?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Hillary hurried off, thrilled to finally have something to do other than shoot Allison concerned looks. 

Allison took a deep breath that shuddered a little on its way out. She glanced up the corridor to the frosted glass doors where the silhouette of Patrick still remained. How was it fair, that he should get to return home to his daughter, hold her in his arms and hear her laughter, when Allison couldn’t do the same? How could they keep a mother from her daughter? Did they not know that Allison’s heart felt like a rock in her chest, that was forcing its way slowly, painfully, up her throat?

Allison squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears back. She would not cry in public. There had never been, and there would never be, paparazzi photographs of Allison Hargreeves crying. Breathing in through her nose, Allison opened her eyes and turned sharply at the sound of Hillary’s voice.

“The car’s ready.”

She nodded, pushed the strap of her bag further up her shoulder, and followed her assistant down the corridor.

***

The phone was ringing when she got in. Allison stared at it, the shrill sound distant and distorted to her ears. She watched it until it finally stopped ringing, then she went over to her drinks cabinet and poured herself a generous amount of whiskey. The amber liquid burned as it went down, and did nothing to sooth the ache in her chest. She drank some more, draining the glass, then poured herself another.

The phone started to ring again. She slammed the bottle down on the table, turning to glare at the offending machine once more. It suddenly occurred to her that it might be Claire ringing. That she had gone behind her father’s back and dialled the phone like Allison had always told her she mustn’t do, but clever, curious Claire had worked out how to do it anyway. She hurried over to the phone, stumbling a little in her heels.

“Hello?” she said breathlessly. 

“Allison, my bestest sister! How are you?”

Allison leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. Definitely not Claire. “Klaus,” she said, “this isn’t a good time.”

“I know, I know, you’re very busy living the life of the rich and famous. I just need a tiny favour from you.”

Of course he did. She hadn’t heard from her brother directly for over five years. Indirectly, of course, she was keeping track of him by discreetly paying his numerous rehab and hospital bills. Not that Klaus ever acknowledged it. She doubted he was even aware she was doing it.

She sighed, taking another mouthful of whiskey. “What do you need?”

“Don’t sound too thrilled, dearest sister.”

“Klaus. I’m going to put the phone down.”

“Okay, okay! I, uh, got into a bit of trouble with Johnny Law last night and I was hoping you would be able to help your favourite brother out? With bail?” he clarified, as though it wasn’t immediately obvious. Allison didn’t answer immediately, she was drifting, somewhere far away from here. “Allison?” Klaus was starting to sound a little worried.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll sort it for you.”

There was an exaggerated sigh of relief at the other end of the line. “You had me worried for a moment there, Ally. Thank you so much, you’re the best!”

“Yeah,” said Allison. At least somebody thought so.

Klaus gave her the details and she put the phone down. If there was one thing that could be gained from talking to Klaus, it always made her life seem a little bit less of a disaster in comparison. At least she had a life to fall apart. Klaus seemed stuck in an endless cycle of drugs-overdose-hospital-rehab-homelessness. And repeat _ad infinitum._

Allison sipped on the rest of her drink thoughtfully. What Klaus really needed was someone to take the time to really get him clean, who knew him well enough to deal with his shit, and who was strong enough to tell him no. And what Allison needed was to focus her mind on something other than Patrick and Claire and her broken heart.

With a sudden desire to act, no doubt supported by the whiskey that was now softening the edges of her mind, she dialled the phone.

***

Klaus had not strayed far from the Academy, despite his vocal hatred of it, and it felt strange to be back in her old city. She had closed the door on this part of her life over eight years ago and now she was opening it up again and glimpsing through the crack. The rest of her siblings still lived here, scattered and estranged, but still unable to completely abandon the city of their misspent youth. Except Luther, of course. When she was in LA she would look up at the moon and feel he was closer to her then than he ever was when he was still living in the Academy. She was glad he had finally escaped the clutches of their father, although she wished he didn’t have to be quite so far away, quite so alone. She would give anything to talk this through with him right now.

Allison got out of the cab, asking the driver to wait, and entered the police station. She spoke quietly to the officer on duty, keeping her sunglasses on and hair tucked under a scarf. He directed her to an empty chair. Allison didn’t sit. She was trembling with nervous energy, and instead paced the waiting area like a caged tiger. 

She heard Klaus before she saw him, talking a mile a minute at the poor bastard escorting him down from the cells. As they entered the waiting area, Allison turned to face them. She saw confusion and shock flicker across her brother’s expression before he quickly schooled it into a wide grin. “Allison,” he said, approaching her with his arms open, pulling her into a hug. He smelled of weed and cigarettes, a potent combination that had Allison wrinkling her nose even as she clung to him tightly, like there was comfort to be found in his long, bony body. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, drawing back to look at her. His green eyes searched her face. “Everything okay?”

It was surprisingly astute of him to notice something was amiss, but then, Allison supposed, he was always more perceptive than any of them ever gave him credit for, or than he let on. She smiled. “Everything’s fine,” she said, the lie coming as smoothly as any line in her movies. “I’m part of your bail conditions.”

Klaus pulled away fully, glancing at the police officer. “How do you mean?” he asked, with false brightness.

“We’re releasing you into your sister’s care at her request.”

Klaus shot her a sharp look, and Allison forced her expression to stay neutral. “So I’m going to some fancy Hollywood rehab to rub shoulders with the stars?”

“Something like that,” Allison said. She gestured towards the doors. “Shall we go? I have a cab waiting.”

Klaus followed her out silently, but as soon as they were out on the street, away from the prying eyes of the cops, he immediately started to make his excuses. “Look, Allison, this is really sweet of you but I really don’t want to get in your way. I don’t need looking after, I’m not a child. I’d just be a huge imposition; I would not fit in with your lifestyle at all.”

“Klaus,” said Allison, opening the door of the cab, “it’s not an imposition. Get in the car.”

Klaus shoved his hands in the pockets of his fluffy black coat, leaning back on his heels, looking for all the world like a man about to run away. “Really, it’s fine, I’ll sort myself out.”

“Klaus, if you don’t get in this car it will be a breach of the terms of your bail. I will march into that police station to tell them and you will serve jail time. Is that what you want?”

Klaus scowled, his lower lip protruding like it did when they were kids and he was sulking. Throwing his arms up in the air with a loud ‘harrumph’, he climbed into the cab. Allison closed the door behind him and breathed out slowly. That was the first battle won. Only a thousand more to go.

***

“Wow,” said Klaus, as Allison let them both into her house, “this is a nice place.” He whistled and turned slowly on his heel to take in the high ceilings and the open-plan layout.

Allison dropped her keys in the bowl and shrugged off her coat. The house was functional. A soulless, beautifully designed prison cell for a mother who had been banished from her home and her child. She hated it. Everything about it reminded her that Claire wasn’t there. There were no toys strewn about the hardwood floors, no sound of little footsteps coming from the bedrooms above. Claire had never been in this house; they had never curled up on the couch together, or made cupcakes in the kitchen, or built a den in the office.

She swallowed thickly as she watched Klaus – who had already thrown off his shoes and socks – wander through the house, touching the silk throw on the sofa, peering up the white staircase, pressing his nose against the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a perfectly manicured lawn.

He turned around as she came into the room. He glanced up at the ceiling. “Is Claire here?”

It felt like something was stuck in her throat, blocking her voice. She grabbed a glass and poured herself some water from the filter. She took a great gulp like it was whiskey before she could finally answer him. “Um, no. She’s with her father.”

“Oh.” She thought she saw disappointment on his face, though it was hard to tell with Klaus. She wondered why he cared; he had never met Claire. “Is she coming?”

Allison shook her head, a jerky movement. “No. She’s staying with him.”

Klaus looked at her for a minute, and Allison though that maybe she saw real emotion in his eyes. Then, “can I smoke?”

She blinked several times. “Of course.” She went to open the door that led out onto the decking. “As long as it’s just tobacco.” Klaus grinned at her and skipped out, a hand-rolled cigarette already between his lips. From the smell of the smoke that wafted into the house, it was indeed only tobacco. Allison was half tempted to join him, but she wanted to practice good habits in front of him. It was why she had cleared her alcohol collection into the garage before going to pick him up. The bottles were hidden beneath a dustsheet and a couple of strategically placed cans of paint that would hopefully throw Klaus off the scent. 

She opened the fridge, looking speculatively at its contents before taking out a carton of orange juice. She poured two large glasses and set them on the counter, waiting for Klaus to finish his cigarette. Not only was she going to get him sober, she was going to increase his nutrient intake as well. Klaus had always looked a little… ghostly, probably the fault of his powers, but she could tell from looking that the smudged eyeliner beneath his eyes was simply covering other dark smudges that couldn’t be wiped away with a makeup wipe. Plus, the hug they’d shared in the police station had been bordering on painful for Allison, the sharp angles of Klaus’s body digging into her.

Klaus wandered in from his cigarette, looking, if possible, more jittery. She nudged the orange juice towards him. He took a drink, and grimaced. “Needs more vodka.”

“Ha,” said Allison, drinking her own down in the hopes that he might mimic her. “Completely sober, remember?” 

“Oh, come on, Ally,” he wheedled. “Maybe I’ll lay off the drugs for a bit but you can’t take away my drink.”

“Watch me,” she said, with a smirk, “now drink your orange juice.”

***

“This is it. I’ve reached nirvana.” 

Allison laughed, sat on the edge of her bed as she watched Klaus discover the wonders of her walk-in wardrobe. The noises coming from inside were almost orgasmic.  
“Wouldn’t I look drop dead gorgeous in this?” Klaus came to stand in the doorway, holding a slinky green cocktail dress against his body.

Allison considered it. “It depends what shoes you pair with it.”

Klaus grinned, help up one finger, and dived back into the wardrobe. There was the sound of scuffling, and Allison winced as a pair of two hundred dollar pumps flew across the wardrobe, landing with a thump on the other side. Claire had been far more respectful of her belongings when they played dress-up. 

“These ones!”

Allison looked back up at Klaus, who stood proudly with a pair of strappy gold heels. “Nice choice,” she said. “If you can fit in them, Cinderella, you can go to the ball.”

“Is that a challenge? That sounds like a challenge.” He sat down with a thump and began wriggling his foot into the first shoe.

“Don’t stretch my shoes!” Allison said with a laugh, lying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. 

She listened to Klaus huff and puff, until the bed dipped beneath his weight and he stuck his foot in front of her nose for her approval. “Ew,” she said, going cross-eyed as she pushed his foot away, “get your smelly feet out of my face.”

She sat up, holding onto his foot, to get a look. His toes were hanging over the end a little, but other than that, they looked pretty good on him. A glance up revealed Klaus looking very pleased with himself. “Not bad,” she said, watching how his eyes lit up, always so responsive to praise.

Klaus stretched, putting his hands behind his head and leaning against her headboard. “I suppose it’s a good job you’ve got such huge feet.”

Allison’s mouth fell open. “I do _not_ have huge feet.” Her eyes narrowed and she tightened her grip on the foot in her lap, showing her fingers beneath his arch and tickling mercilessly.

Klaus shrieked, kicking wildly, and only Allison’s excellent reflexes prevented her from getting kicked in the face. “Stop it!” he cried. “Stop it!”

“What do we say?” Allison asked with an evil grin, still wiggling her fingers against the soles of his feet.

“Er…” Klaus floundered, before shrieking again, even higher pitched, as she gave him no mercy.

“Please,” she prompted.

“Please,” he repeated with a gasp, “please stop.”

She released him, patting his foot, and he curled it up under him, watching her with wide eyes. “You’re mean,” he said, that lower lip back up and pouting.

“Yes, I am,” she said, standing up and a holding out a hand to him. He took it after a little hesitation. “Now, let’s see if you can make it down the stairs in these.”

“You just want to see me fall and break my jaw again, don’t you?” he said sulkily, as he slid of the bed. “Well bad luck, because I’ve had a lot of practice since then.” As if to prove it, he sashayed across the room flawlessly, turning and striking a pose in the doorway. 

Allison laughed and followed him out the room. No one made her laugh quite like Klaus.

***

They had fallen asleep on the couch, after spending the evening watching Legally Blonde and painting each other’s nails.

“Do you think I’d look good as a blonde?” Klaus asked, halfway through, eyeing Allison’s golden curls.

“Oh God, no,” said Allison, giggling at the thought. “You’d look like a member of a nineties boyband.”

Klaus looked thrilled at the prospect. “I see no downside!”

“If you say so,” Allison said, patting his hand. He had stuck his tongue out at her. He had fallen asleep before her, muttering away to himself even in his unconsciousness. Exhausted though she was, Allison didn’t think she would ever be able to sleep, but she must have drifted off, because she awoke in darkness hours later to the sound of someone clattering in the kitchen.

She stretched her hand across the couch, and felt only the blankets they had wrapped themselves up in. “Klaus?” she called softly. There was no response, but perhaps he couldn’t hear her over the racket he was making. She got up, brushing her hair out of her face, and headed towards the kitchen. 

Klaus was shirtless, wearing only his lace-up leather pants; she could see his pale skin practically glowing in the moonlight. He was wrestling with one of the kitchen drawers, trying to get it to close, when something was clearly jammed. Allison flicked on the light. “What are you doing?”

“Christ on a cracker.” Klaus clutched his chest as he turned around to face her, temporarily forgetting his battle with her kitchen cabinets. “You scared me.”

There was bottle of half-drunk vodka – her vodka – on the kitchen table. Allison folded her arms and stepped closer to him, her vision adjusting in the sudden light to get a better view of his eyes. He ducked away from her gaze, but she had already seen: his pupils were blown. “Are you high?”

“Nooo,” he sing-songed, then frowned. “Well, technically, yes.”

Allison pressed a hand to her face. “How did you even get drugs? Didn’t they confiscate them?”

Klaus looked bemused. “I got some new ones.”

Perhaps she was still half asleep, because it took her brain far too long to work out what exactly he meant by that. “You bought drugs? Round here?”

“Yeah,” said Klaus, looking pleased she’d finally got it. “Rich people love drugs too; this neighbourhood is crawling with dealers.”

Allison shook her head. “You’re supposed to be staying sober! I paid your bail, Klaus.” She sat down on one of the stools, suddenly very tired. “I thought we were having fun.”

“We were! We are!” said Klaus, rushing around the island to put his hand on hers. His hands were very clammy. “I just thought, why not make it more fun?”

“This isn’t fun, Klaus,” she said, snatching her hand away and standing back up. She gestured at the half-empty bottle. “And is this my vodka? That I hid for a reason?”

Klaus pulled a face. “In my defence, you didn’t hide it very well.” He gave her a lopsided grin, and Allison felt anger rise up in her chest.

“Do you think this is funny?” she asked, raising her voice and stepping forward. Klaus stood his ground, but the grin did fall off his face. “Give me the rest of the pills, Klaus.”

She held out her hand expectantly, like she did when she caught Claire playing with something she shouldn’t. Klaus glanced down at her hand, then back up at her. The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was mocking her. “Give me the pills,” she repeated.

Klaus held up his hands, as if in surrender. He was swaying on his feet, but apparently completely unaware of the fact. “Come on, Allison. I’ve already taken some, what’s the harm in a few more?”

Allison took a deep breath, heart thudding in her chest. “_I heard a rumour_,” she saw the exact second realisation dawned on Klaus’s face, but the drugs made him too slow to react, “_you gave me any drugs you have, right now_.” She saw Klaus’s eyes glaze and flicker, and he reached into the deep pockets of his coat, draped over the kitchen counter, and pulled out a bag of pills, another of powder. His gaze burned into hers as he handed them over, and she took them with trembling hands. 

Then, she turned on her heel, heading to the bathroom. Klaus tripped over the kitchen stool as he hurried to follow her. “Allison, wait!”

She pushed open the door to the bathroom, flipped up the toilet lid and dropped the contents of the bags into the bowl below. Klaus gave a strangled cry behind her, pushing past her and reaching towards them like he was going to scoop them out. Allison flushed the toilet before he could get there, the sound of the water rushing strangely satisfying. She folded her arms, turned to look at Klaus, who was watching the swirling water like she had just flushed away all his hopes and dreams. Maybe she had.

He looked up at her, eyes wide and wild, then turned and stumbled out of the bathroom. She followed him out, back into the kitchen, feeling strangely calm now. Klaus tugged his coat on, movements uncoordinated but expression set.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Out.” 

Allison let him get as far as the lounge. “No,” she said calmly. Klaus froze, like she had physically stopped him. He turned slowly, lip curled.

“You gonna Rumour me again?”

“I don’t want to.”

Klaus laughed, short, sharp, humourless. “Yes, you do.” He took a step towards her, getting up in her face. “You want to Rumour like a want my next hit. You need it, you need that high, the beautiful release.”

Allison bit her lip, her mind strangely blank, like she had no control over the sounds her mouth made. It was a terrifying thought, especially for someone whose words held such power. Still. “Maybe I should be like you, give into all my temptations, no matter what the consequences.”

Klaus’s breath was hot against her ear as he leaned in. “Maybe you should.”

They stared at each other in silence for several long seconds. When she said nothing, he chuckled and raised his GOOD BYE tattooed palm at her. “See ya, sis.” He turned on his heel and sauntered towards the front door.

“_I heard a rumour you couldn’t leave this house_.”

Klaus stopped; his shoulders slumped. He stood still and silent, facing away from Allison. She felt the sudden, desperate need to fill the silence, although she knew she had said enough. “I just want to take care of you.”

Klaus slowly slid off his coat, tossing it onto the sofa, the picture of defeat. “Yeah,” he said, sounding tired. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

Allison watched as he passed her to get to the stairs, listened to the padding of his bare feet on the tile floors. It was the right thing to do. A rehab facility wouldn’t let him leave the premises. Klaus thought she would be a pushover because she was his sister, but Allison had to be strict, had to set boundaries, establish rules. She had to if Klaus was ever to get better.

***

Klaus was puking his guts up and seemed to think it was all Allison’s fault. He made sure to tell her this in between gasps and burps. She was knelt beside him, rubbing his back and stroking his greasy hair as he shuddered and cried. Next to her was a glass of water that she offered to Klaus whenever he stopped throwing up long enough to take a drink.

When the worst of it had passed, Allison leaned against the bathtub while Klaus rested one arm on the toilet seat, pressing his forehead into the crook of his elbow. “Why are you doing this to me?” he moaned.

“You need to get rid of the poison from your body. I know it’s not pleasant, but you’ll feel so much better after.”

Klaus groaned. “If it feels this bad coming out, I’d rather it stayed in there.”

Allison smiled, nudged his leg gently with her toe. “Hey.” She nudged him again until Klaus looked up at her. “You can do this; you know that, right? I’ve seen you put up with worse shit than this and come through the other side.”

Klaus looked at her with a helpless expression, then his gaze flicked up, over her shoulder. “Did you know you have a ghost in your bathtub?”

Allison’s eyes widened, not wanting to look behind her for fear of what she might see. Klaus’s gaze was fixed on something behind her. She scrambled across the bathroom floor to sit next to him, her gaze fixed on the apparently empty bathtub. “You’re kidding, right?”

She shot a glance at Klaus who merely grinned and shrugged. 

“Klaus, I swear, if you’re messing with me...” 

Klaus just cackled.

***

They were sat on the couch in front of some trashy reality show Klaus had insisted on watching. Allison was on her laptop, googling the best ways to support someone going through withdrawal. Klaus was wrapped in three blankets, which he kept kicking off at regular intervals, then pulling back over him, shivering. His bare feet, pressed against her thigh, were cold and clammy.

She was scrolling down one webpage when a banner ad at the side caught her eye. Claire and Patrick, on some ad for a gossip site. Allison scowled. She hated that Patrick was fine with exposing their daughter to the public eye. It was something they had always disagreed on. As someone who had spent most of her childhood in front of cameras, Allison knew the damage it could do. Patrick was of the opinion that the press would get pictures of Claire regardless, so it was better if they controlled what got out.

With more force than necessary, she clicked on the ad. It was some stupid piece on Patrick and Claire in the park, “happier than ever” without Allison. Allison looked at her daughter’s smiling face and was struck with a sudden sense of longing that made her want to rip out her heart, just to stop the pain.

Instead, she placed the laptop down on the coffee table and got up. She went to the phone, dialled the house number, waited with bated breath as it rang. It took far too long for Patrick to finally answer. “Hello?”

“Patrick,” she said. “Can I speak to Claire?”

“Allison.” He didn’t sound particularly happy to hear from her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” she said, “I just need to hear her voice. Please, Patrick.”

“She’s getting ready for bed. I don’t want her getting all worked up.”

Allison closed her eyes, that rock in her chest was back and it was pressing against her sternum. “Do you want me to beg, is that it? Do you want to hear me beg, Patrick? Because you know I’ll do it if it means I can speak to her. I feel like-”

“Has it occurred to you, Allison, that maybe this isn’t about you?” Patrick sounded angry, like she was the unreasonable one for wanting to speak to her daughter. “Have you even been to see that therapist?”

Allison felt like a scolded child. “I have my first session tomorrow.”

Patrick sighed. “Good. Good. If you go to that session, and the next, then maybe we can look into getting you a phone call with her.”

“You want me to wait at least two weeks just to speak to my daughter? This is insane-”

“No Allison, it’s about protecting our daughter.”

The _from you_ went unspoken, but Allison heard it anyway. She couldn’t breathe, the air getting trapped in her throat. No words could force their way up, only trapped, broken noises. She put the phone down, pressed her forehead against the cold wall before banging the heel of her palm against it repeatedly.

Cold fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her away from her offense against the hapless wall. Her hand was throbbing. She turned in Klaus’s hold and pressed her face into his neck, sobbing. She clung to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, still shivering with withdrawal, but as sturdy and supportive as she needed him to be.

She was the first to pull away, and when she looked at him his skin was ghastly pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he was swaying on his feet. Maybe she had been the one holding him. She put a hand on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch even as he winced at the contact on his sensitive skin. “Get back under your blankets,” she said, “I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

“No,” Klaus mumbled. “I should be looking after you.”

She smiled at her sweet brother, and kissed his other cheek. “Let me do this.” He finally obeyed, and shuffled back to the couch, burrowing under the blankets once more. Allison went to the kitchen and started getting out the ingredients for hot chocolate. The LA climate didn’t really lend itself to such comforts, but it was something Mom had always made for them when they were upset, and Allison liked the process of simmering the milk in the pan and stirring in the crumbled chocolate.

The bottle of vodka was still on the kitchen top. She should pour it down the sink. What she did instead was pour herself a good-sized glass. She had never been a fan of clear spirits, the vodka was usually reserved for parties and cocktails, but needs must. She grimaced as it went down, but continued to drink until the glass was empty. She set it down, then took the bottle and poured the rest down the sink.

Hot chocolate made, she carried the two mugs, complete with whipped cream and marshmallows, into the lounge. She handed one to Klaus, who took it gratefully, and sat down on the couch next to him. She licked at the cream on her drink for a minute until Klaus spoke.

“You know when people say vodka doesn’t leave a smell on your breath?” His tone was conversational. “They’re wrong.”

Allison sighed, put her mug down on the coffee table and turned to face Klaus. “I’m sorry.” Klaus nodded, stuck his finger in his whipped cream, scooped out a large dollop, and licked it off his finger like an ice cream cone. Allison wasn’t sure how the action came across as judgemental, but it did, and she felt the need to defend herself. “I don’t do it all the time. I’ve just got a lot of shit going on in my life right now.”

“Don’t we all.” 

There was nothing hostile about Klaus’s tone, but it rankled her all the same. “Look. Me having a drink does not negate the fact that the only time I’ve heard from you over the last five years is when you’ve either OD’d or been arrested.”

Klaus squirmed in his seat. “I don’t think this is really about me.”

Patrick’s words echoed in her mind. “Well apparently it’s not about me either. So I’m not entirely sure where that leaves us.”

She turned away from him and picked up her own mug, drinking deeply from it. It was still hot, and burned her throat going down, but she refused to let Klaus see that.

“It is about you, though,” Klaus’s quiet voice came.

She shot him a look. “What?”

Klaus put his own mug down, pulled himself up so he was sitting more or less upright on the couch, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. “You have a reason to stay sober, to get clean. You have someone who relies on you, and loves you. If that’s not a reason to make yourself better, then I don’t know what is.”

Allison gave him a helpless look. “But I don’t have her, do I?” 

“But you could,” Klaus insisted. “The Allison I know would fight for what she loved.”

Allison felt tears burning in her eyes. “But what if I’m no good for her?”

“Then become good for her. That’s why it’s about you. Not even you have the power to change other people, not really. But you can change yourself.”

Allison was listening to her brother’s words, she really was, but that little voice in her head, that switched between sounding like her father and sounding like Patrick, was speaking louder. “What if I fail?” she whispered.

Klaus gave her a heartbroken look, wide green eyes as lost as a child’s. Then he smiled, soft and sad. “What do you think is stopping me from trying?” He chuckled. “Well, that, and I have no one to change for.” He cocked his head like he was listening to something, then shook his head dismissively.

“You couldn’t change for me?” Allison asked, though she couldn’t quite convince herself.

Klaus smiled, seeing right through her. “Would you do it for me?”

Allison had nothing to say to that. They sat in silence, drinking the rest of their hot chocolate.

***

Allison had five outfits out on her bed and not one of them seemed to say ‘I am a loving and responsible mother who has made mistakes in the past but who is willing and eager to make changes for the sake of my daughter.’ Her wardrobe was extensive but apparently that level of nuance was beyond its capabilities. 

“What about this?” Klaus’s voice came from her wardrobe, tossing out a leather skirt.

“I think I should avoid leather, it might send the wrong message,” said Allison, picking up the garment and smoothing it out before putting it on the end of the bed, away from her legitimate choices.

“Do responsible mothers not wear leather?” Klaus asked, sticking his head out of the wardrobe.

“Not to therapy.” She pondered her choices, picking a pair of trousers from one outfit, and a top from another. Paired with flats rather than her usual heels and she would look… smart but sensible, possibly even contrite. “I think I’ve got it,” she called to Klaus. 

Klaus emerged, carrying a crop top that he didn’t mention, so she assumed he was taking it for himself. He pulled a face at her choice. “Sure, if you want to look all matronly.”

Allison picked up the outfit. “Nothing I own comes anywhere near matronly,” she said primly. “And the fact that you don’t like it makes me think I’ve made the right choice.”

Klaus shook his head and sighed. He wandered out the room muttering about how nobody understood his fashion genius, stroking the material of the crop top absentmindedly. 

She changed and came downstairs to find Klaus now wearing her crop top. She respectfully didn’t mention it. “Right,” she said, picking up her keys and making sure she had everything in her purse. “Make sure you drink plenty of water, and don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”

“Yes, Mom,” Klaus said with an eyeroll. “Not much trouble I can get in stuck in the house, is there?”

“I’m sure you’d find something,” Allison said absently, rooting in her purse to see if she had any gum. “See you later.”

Klaus held up his GOOD BYE hand in response.

***

The therapist’s office was larger than it had any right to be, with great bay windows overlooking the LA skyline. There were plants strategically placed around the room, leafy and voluminous. Presumably they were supposed to have a calming, comforting effect on the patients. There was also some non-threatening abstract artwork on big canvases on the wall, only one step above the generic shit you got in mid-range hotel rooms.

Allison sat in a chair that was not uncomfortable but somehow impossible to relax in. Not that she was going to relax at all in this room. She was practically vibrating with tension, watching as the therapist, a Dr Coleman, poured two large glasses of water from a jug. She came over and placed one on the little table next to Allison; maybe she thought Allison would be doing a lot of talking.

Finally, the therapist took a seat, and smiled warmly at Allison. Allison didn’t smile back; she didn’t feel like she could control her facial muscles enough to try. “Now, Allison, I understand that this is going to be unlike either of us have ever done before. This is your first foray into therapy, and I, well, I have never worked with someone of your… unique abilities before.” She didn’t seem to expect an answer, which was good, because Allison didn’t have one to give. “But we’re going to make our way through this unchartered territory together, and support each other where necessary. Would you agree?”

Taken by surprise by the question, Allison cleared her throat. “Oh. Yes.”

“I’d like to get a better understanding of this power of yours. Of course, I’ve read your file but I’d like to hear it from you.” Allison blinked at her. “What do you think your power is?”

It sounded like a trick question, and the ‘think’ irritated her, like the therapist didn’t quite believe in it. If she answered honestly, her response would be picked apart and analysed until it revealed Allison’s deepest darkest fears and insecurities. If she lied, she wouldn’t be trying her hardest to participate in this therapy session, she wouldn’t be trying her hardest for Claire. 

She swallowed. “Well…” She trailed off, eyes searching the therapist’s face for the answer she wanted to hear, but Dr Coleman gave nothing away.

She floundered for a few more minutes before Dr Coleman took pity on her. “Perhaps we could start with something a little easier. When was the last time you used your power?”

It was certainly easier; Allison knew exactly when she had last Rumoured someone, two nights ago. She didn’t, however, particularly want to discuss how she was technically holding her brother against his will in order to save him from himself. Kidnap and false imprisonment were probably not on the list of ‘good mother attributes’.

There had been another long silence, she realised, and the therapist was looking at her with an expression of endless patience.

“I don’t- I don’t remember,” Allison said, a little hoarsely.

Dr Coleman pursed her lips and wrote something down on her notepad. Then, she put down her pen and clasped her hands together. “What we’re trying to achieve here, Allison, is an environment of total honesty. And that goes both ways. I won’t baby you, or tell you what I think you want to hear, and I expect you to show me the same respect.”

Allison looked down at her lap, set her features, then looked back up at Dr Coleman. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t remember the last time I used my power. It’s been a very stressful and upsetting week.”

Dr Coleman would have to try a lot harder if she wanted her look of disappointment to have anywhere near the same effect as Reginald’s.

***

The therapist had given Allison her number, in case Allison ‘wanted to talk, or had anything more to say’. Allison didn’t plan on using it, but had accepted it with a smile and a promise to call should anything come up. The card was now in her bag, destined to be lost for at least the next few months. 

Allison turned the radio up to distract her from her thoughts as she drove home. The session had gone much more smoothly when Dr Coleman had moved her line of questioning away from her powers. Allison was happy to talk about her relationship with Patrick. Well, not happy, but angry enough at him that she could spend the next hour outlining his many faults.

The radio was so loud that she saw the fire truck before she heard it. It overtook her as she turned into the residential area near where she lived. She watched its progress as it sped down the road, then turned down her street.

Dread pooled in her stomach. There were plenty of houses down there, she told herself, there was no reason to think it might be going to her house.

But her brother was clumsy, and careless. And had known pyromaniac tendencies…

She put her foot down, and followed the fire truck down the street. She saw the smoke in the air as she turned onto her road, going at least twenty miles per hour over the speed limit. She didn’t believe it, though, not until she pulled up outside her house and saw the fire trucks stopped outside, the fire fighters unspooling a hose to tackle the flames that had shattered her front windows.

Allison threw herself out of the car, tasting the smoke in the air. She ran towards the house, ready to crash her way through the front door because Klaus was in there, and he couldn’t get out.

“Whoa!” Strong arms in a fireproof jacket wrapped around her, halting her progress towards the front door. “It’s not safe for you to go in there, ma’am.”

“My brother’s in there!”

The fire fighter shouted across to his crew. “Hey! We got someone in there!” Several acknowledged him, and started preparing to head into the house. He turned back to her. “I’m going to have to ask you to move a little way back, ma’am, it’s not safe.”

Allison shook her head. “He can’t leave.”

“They’re going to get your brother, ma’am, don’t worry. The best thing you can do is get to safety.”

Allison looked him in the eye. “_I heard a rumour that you let me go into the house_.” 

The man’s eyes glazed and flashed, and he took a step back. “Go ahead.”

She ran past him, following the other firefighters through the front door. Smoke was billowing out. She wrapped the collar of her jacket around her mouth and nose as the entered the heat and the smoke of the house.

“Klaus!” she shouted through the material of her jacket. She squinted through the haze, glancing around the lounge. She moved further into the house, her skin prickling. “Klaus!”

Something touched her shoulder and she whirled around, ready to Rumour any firefighter who tried to make her leave. Instead she saw her brother, red-eyed but alive. “Klaus!” She dragged him closer, pressed her mouth to his ear to make absolutely sure he could hear her. “_I heard a rumour you could leave this house_.”

She pulled back to check to see if it had taken. Klaus’s eyes flashed, and he nodded. Keeping a tight hold of his arm, she dragged him through the smoky hallway, and out through the front door.

They stumbled away from the house before both collapsing onto the grass outside, coughing. Allison was vaguely aware of lots of yelling, but even as she choked on the smoke in her throat, she only had eyes for Klaus. He was lying face down on the grass, coughing weakly, tears streaming down his soot-covered face.

Next thing she knew there were paramedics swarming around him, around her. She let them separate them because Klaus needed help. He needed oxygen, he needed proper medical care. He did not need her and her inadequate apologies.

***

The doctors had cleared her not long after they arrived at the hospital, and now she sat on a chair in the corridor, waiting to be allowed to see Klaus. Officers from the fire and police departments had come to speak to her, to tell her the extent of the damage, to ask her if she had any idea how it had started. She had barely acknowledged their presence, answering only in monosyllables. It wasn’t like she had been there. Klaus had. Klaus had been alone, trapped.

They wanted to speak to Klaus as well, but the nurse had told them in no uncertain terms that he was not fit for questions at the present time. She had taken Allison aside and told her that as soon as her brother was stable, she could go in and see him. She said it kindly, because she didn’t know that Allison had almost killed her brother.

So she sat, and waited, and mentally tore herself apart. 

Over an hour later, the friendly nurse can back and put her hand on her shoulder and told her she could come and see Klaus. Allison followed her. She had never been afraid of her brother but she would rather go head to head the most terrifying criminals the Umbrella Academy had ever faced than see the recrimination in her brother’s eyes.

Klaus was murmuring to himself when she entered the room, and for a moment she thought he was talking in his sleep. Then he turned his head towards her and smiled. With the oxygen tubes up his nose, and the paleness of his skin against the white hospital pillows, it was a somewhat macabre sight. But that wasn’t the worst thing. No, the worst thing was that he was smiling at her. Like she wasn’t the worst person in the world.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little husky.

Allison pressed her lips together, forcing back tears. “How can you say that?”

Klaus blinked, looking confused. He glanced at the air next to him like it was supposed to give him some answers, but apparently found none. “Say what? I only said ‘hey.’”

“You nearly died because of me!” Allison cried, going over to the side of the bed. She loomed over him and he looked a little frightened so she sat down on the chair. “You could have burned to death because I stopped you from leaving.”

Klaus gave a little shrug, then winced, as though he had jarred something. “Actually, I think the smoke inhalation would have got me first.” He laughed, stopping only when Allison shot him a disbelieving look.

“Are you not angry?” How could he not be angry? How could he not hate her? She had fucked up royally and nearly cost him his life, and yet he was here making jokes.

“Why would I be angry? You didn’t set the fire.”

Allison stared at him a little longer, wondering how someone who had been imprisoned in a house by his sister didn’t think that sister was to blame when the place caught fire and he couldn’t escape. She sighed; she would never understand Klaus. “What happened?” she asked, quietly.

“Oh, uh, well. Funny story, actually.” He squirmed at the look she gave him. “I decided to make some eggs, y’know, get my protein so I can grow up big and strong. And I kind of, uh, forgot about them, and fell asleep.”

Allison blinked, trying to process what she had just heard. “Jesus, Klaus.” Something was bubbling up in her throat, but it wasn’t pain this time, it was something else. A giggle. It was ridiculous; Klaus was ridiculous. He had burned her house down making eggs.

Klaus started to giggle, too, wheezing slightly through his oxygen tube. When their laughter subsided, he looked at her seriously. “I’m sorry I burned your house down.”

“It’s okay,” she took his hand, cold in her grasp. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He smiled at her and a little bit of the previous guilt welled up in her again. “I’m sorry I Rumoured you.”

“That’s all right,” he said. “I’m sorry I stole money from you to buy drugs.”

“You stole-?” She stopped herself. “Never mind. That’s okay.”

***

Never one for hospitals, Klaus discharged himself pretty quickly. Allison was emphatically not happy about it but she was trying this new thing where she didn’t tell people what to do. She watched as he pulled his fluffy jacket on, which smelled even more of smoke than it usually did.

“You should get that dry-cleaned,” she said.

Klaus shot her an amused look, checking that his cigarettes were still in his pocket. The doctor had warned him against smoking in his condition, but Allison didn’t think Klaus would listen to her any more than he would listen to Allison.

They left the hospital together, shoulders brushing as they walked. “Don’t take this as permission to carry on doing it,” Allison said, as they walked down the path through the grounds, “but I kind of feel, I don’t know, freer? Now that you burned my house down.”

Klaus nodded. “Fire is cleansing,” he said, serenely, “why do you think I like it so much?”

“It’s just, that house reminded me of everything I lost. And now, I think maybe it’s time to find a new place where I can focus on being better, for the future.”

“Think your insurance will cover fire by idiot brother?”

“Let’s hope so.” She came to a stop when they reached the road. Klaus put his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels, body language Allison had come to recognise as meaning Klaus was getting antsy, his body itching to fly away. “Are you going to go home?”

Klaus glanced up and down the street. “Probably. Such as it is.”

“Can I buy you a plane ticket?”

Klaus gave her a sly grin. “Actually, I was thinking making my own way back. Y’know, taking my sweet time, seeing the sights.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Think your Type A personality can handle that?”

It couldn’t, but Allison was trying to be better. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“Aren’t I always?” It didn’t exactly fill her with confidence, and she gnawed on her lower lip.

“Just call me, okay? If you’re in trouble. And when you get back. Just so I know you’re safe.”

Klaus smiled. “I can do that.” She didn’t believe him, but at least now he knew that she would pick up the phone, if he ever did need to call.

She pulled him into a hug, one of those deep ones that she enveloped Claire in when she was so overcome with love and affection it felt like it was spilling out of her like water from an overfilled glass. Klaus squeezed back, though she could feel the jitteriness in his bony frame. Taking pity, she released him.

He stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck almost bashfully. “Well,” he said. “I’ll see you around, sis.”

“See you,” she said softy, and watched as he turned and crossed the road, heading off who knew where. She didn’t know, and that was okay. He was his own person, and Allison couldn’t control anyone’s actions but her own.

She walked down the road, in the opposite direction to Klaus, stopping only when she came to a payphone. Fishing the business card from her bag, she dialled the number and pushed in a few coins.

“Hello, Dr Coleman?” She took a deep breath. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you in our last session and that was wrong of me. I want this to work because I want to be a better person, for Claire, and for myself. Do you think maybe we could start over?”

Dr Coleman sounded genuinely happy to hear from her, and said that Allison had made a positive step in calling her. Allison liked that: positive step. It sounded like there were many more she could make, many ways she could improve and become better, that every positive step she took would bring her closer to Claire.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are love <3


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